


The Draw

by ColorfulStabwound



Series: The Death of Draco Malfoy [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Funeral, M/M, Malfoy Manor, New York Fashion Week, The Draw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:13:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorfulStabwound/pseuds/ColorfulStabwound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is aroused by clothes, Theodore gives him a hard time, Teddy Lupin makes a [suggestive] appearance and someone dies!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Draw

**Author's Note:**

> The story behind the liason with Teddy Lupin is graciously borrowed from my brilliant cohort, Unkissed. 
> 
> Random Dollhouse references at the end there because I love that show and they fit.
> 
> For Theodore, you know who you are.

When you were a child you never could have imagined that your life would be what it is now and by the time you reached adolescence, you couldn’t fathom that your life would have lasted this long at all. The fact that you have managed to overcome countless obstacles and rise above the misgivings of your own life is a testament to just how strong you really are.

 

You think you have always been weak, but you are wrong.

 

So wrong.

 

You’ve been jig sawing across the world with Theodore for the better part of three years, and even though you have long since learned to expect anything when you are together, it still feels like a brand new dream every time you wake up next to him. 

 

Today you are across the pond, New York City to be exact. You’ve been increasingly accepting to ‘muggling’ it up with Theodore over the past few years and as such, you have finally talked him into accompanying you to the states for fashion week. At first he laughed at you and you think back to that moment still and you smile with a softness that not many people ever get to see.

 

He was stretched out on a blanket on a beach, which you’ve long since accepted. He knows you hate the beach and yet he insists on dragging you to as many as he can, as if he’s trying to cure you of a phobia. It doesn’t bother you, you think it’s endearing and truthfully, you don’t despise the beach as much as you _say_ you do. It was Bora Bora where you brought up New York, and he glanced up from the book in his hands to gauge just how serious you were with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

Of course you were deadly serious. You’ve always taken your dress very seriously and as you’ve aged, your taste for muggle designer menswear has grown, almost obscenely. You knew perfectly well that Theodore would be dreadfully bored at a runway show and as such, you felt compelled to bargain.

 

“For every runway show you attend with me, we’ll do something that _you’d_ like to do. Anything at all.”  You knew that Theodore could not resist an offer like this because it wasn’t often that you bargained with _no restrictions_ , which was like universal tender in the world that the two of you have created.

 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Malfoy.” He’s still smirking rather smugly as he marks the place in his book and sets it aside before rolling over and dropping a kiss to your mouth.  “Sealed with a kiss.” He murmurs against your lips and you smile and wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. After that, he scrambles to his feet and races towards the water, and although you don’t follow him into the ocean, you do follow. When you stop short just shy of breaking waves on sand, your slate gaze never leaves him and you are content in watching him dive under each new swell.

 

 

You are not a fan of muggle airplanes. In fact, you are fairly certain that you loathe them more than the beach. Theodore insists that it is much easier to cross the ocean to the states in one and you are not having it, although after a particularly _insightful_ night, you agree and you silently muse over the fact that you cannot seem to deny him. Anything.  

 

The flight, as it turns out, is much more bearable when there is free-flowing alcohol involved.

 

“What is that smell?” Theodore’s voice is in your ear and you have to smile, although you don’t respond just yet.

 

You are standing in front of The Plaza, arm in arm and you both are momentarily struck by the impressive structure whose architecture seems to literally reach for the clouds above.

 

“I should have known you’d choose the biggest, flashiest hotel in the city.” His faint laugh in your ear stirs you and you merely smirk knowingly and lead the way into the lobby.

 

“You should have, yes.” You murmur as your eyes move over everything they can readily see, taking it all in. You are inwardly impressed that muggles managed to capture so much beauty in a singular edifice.

 

When you are finished at the front desk they hand you a set of keys; actual keys, not those plastic cards muggles like to use. “Fitzgerald suite. Enjoy your stay at the Plaza, gentlemen.”  You’re nodding thanks to the woman before heading for the lift, eyeing Theodore sidelong.

 

“The Fitzgerald suite? Trying your hand at Gatsby?” Theodore nudges your side as you step into the carriage.  “I’m afraid I’m no Daisy Buchanan.” He adds with a little smirk as he slinks his arm through yours, and you have to laugh at this because you suddenly have a mental image of him dolled up like a 20’s debutante.

 

“Daisy was a useless cunt anyway. I think Gatsby _really_ had it bad for Carraway.” You turn to face him as the lift climbs higher and higher and a knowing smirk curves your mouth upwards and the irony is not lost on you.

 

After that, Theodore pretends to be scandalized by your vulgarity and suggests a punishment as you hold open the door of your suite for him. You find yourself laughing under your breath again because Theodore Nott is rarely scandalized by anything, much less vulgarity; not that you are complaining.

 

 

Fashion week is a euphoric mix of decadence, idle rich, and pretty clothes and the entire thing keeps you in a constant state of semi-arousal. Theodore quickly picks up on this, and has taken to seductively whispering the names of fashion houses in your ear at the most inopportune times. At the Metropolitan he lays a hand on your arm and leans close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath as he quietly whispers “Westwood” in your ear. You sigh a bit raggedly and silently curse him for waiting until you were both utterly surrounded by muggle children. When you are at a production of Macbeth at Lincoln Center, he leans over in his chair to quietly whisper “Tom Ford” in your ear. You narrow your eyes and bite your tongue and steadily ignore the silent yet devious giggles in the seat next to you. By the time he unleashes “Dior” on you at Chelsea Market you want to strangle him but you settle on shagging on just about every surface inside the Fitzgerald suite instead.

 

When fashion week is over Theodore says that New York has started to grow on him and you end up booking the Plaza for an extended stay. It was a far cry from the tropical beaches the two of you had been practically living on for the last couple of years and you don’t mind the change, so long as you both are happy. 

 

And you are, until everything changes.

 

You’re just coming in from a night of drinking and debauchery, it _is_ Friday after all and there is an unspoken rule about Fridays between you. The man at the front desk calls you over as you head for the lift. He hands you a stiff envelope bearing your name and you don’t even have to open it to know who it’s from; you’d know that stationary anywhere.  When you re-join Theodore you are considerably less jovial than before and you are even feeling unfortunately sober.

 

“What is it?” He asks as the lift doors swing shut and you can’t help but notice that it is not so much a question as a statement.

 

“My mother.” You reply and then hand over the still sealed envelope for him to inspect.

 

“We always knew this day would come, Draco.” He says and then he smiles and you do not miss the hint of sadness hiding beneath it.

 

He leans against you and you instinctively wrap your arm around him, the rest of the short trip to the suite swallowed in silence because you are both lost in your own thoughts.

 

“He’s dead.” You say sometime later and you really just sit there because you are in shock and you still aren’t sure how you feel about the news.

 

“I’m sorry.” Theodore frowns and nuzzles up closer to you and you feel marginally better because you know that this is his way of comforting you right now—Which you appreciate more than he knows, considering how he felt about your father.

 

When you lie down in the darkness you don’t sleep for a long time and judging by the lack of soft sounds and sleepy breathing, Theodore isn’t sleeping just yet either. Your fingers reach for him blindly and tangle with his and you smile because there is really no one else in the entire world you’d want beside you.    


“Will you come with me?” The words are more difficult to say than you thought they’d be, and as you stare into the shadows you realize that you are scared he will say no, even though you know deep down that he wouldn’t do that to you.

 

“Of course.” Is his response and then you exhale the breath that you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

 

Your trip back to England is wrought with uncertainty and dread. You haven’t spoken to you Mother properly since you left, and although you’ve exchanged several letters with her, you are terrified that she will not be as happy to see you as she once might have been.

 

When you enter the gates of Malfoy manor a small shiver jolts you and Theodore’s hand instantly squeezes yours but he says nothing because he is just as apprehensive of coming home as you are. It takes you a moment to actually _enter_ the manor and as you both stand there on the threshold of the front doors, it feels like your past, present, and future are all colliding head on with one another.

 

 

“Draco!” Your mother’s voice is a breathy gasp and she instantly stands and crosses the library to where you and Theodore have just entered. When she hugs you, you feel like a small child and your nervousness slowly starts to melt away. 

 

“It’s good to see you again, mother.” You say when you part and offer her a smile. “You remember Theodore.” You add and then turn your attention Theodore who looks like he would very much like to disappear into the wallpaper.

 

“Of course, it’s lovely to see you again, Theodore.” And then she hugs Theodore too, which catches you _both_ by surprise. You can tell by the look on his face that he is unsure of how to react, and you almost feel bad for him before you remember his dirty tricks during fashion week.

 

The next week passes by in the blink of an eye and before you know it you are standing in front of your father’s casket and you are still unsure of how you feel about his death. It will be a long time before your true thoughts on this matter finally catch up to you, and when they do you will feel a detached sense of regret in the knowledge that he never really knew the real you at all.

 

It is at the reception following the burial that Theodore leans over and mutters something in your ear about the young bloke talking to your mother and another older woman who looks vaguely related. You’re lips twitch with an unseen smirk because you know damn well who _that_ is, and when you tilt your head and quietly refresh Theodore’s memory regarding a certain Friday night, he instantly colors and sits back in his chair. 

 

“Your second cousin Draco, really?” Theodore is eyeing you sidelong as you stand on the balcony of your chambers. He wanted to smoke and you were inclined to escape the swell of people who you suspect weren’t really there to mourn so much as gawk. When you open your mouth to protest, he shoots you a dangerous glare and you snap your mouth shut and steal the cigarette from between his lips instead. 

 

“Don’t even _try_ and pretend you didn’t know who he was.” Theodore isn’t angry, not really. Honestly, how could he be? That night with Teddy Lupin was one of the best Friday adventures of the year. He knew it. You knew it, and you would wager a guess that even little Teddy knew it as well.

 

“Don’t even _try_ and pretend that that tidbit of knowledge would have stopped you, you little deviant.” You cut in practically on queue as you exhale, and you fix him with a knowing smirk and you wait; it doesn’t take long.

 

Theodore’s expression quickly switches from vaguely offended to mischievous and you have your answer. You know him like the back of your own hand, you always have and you always will.

 

 

 

After the services are all said and done you find yourself out on the lawn beneath a blanket of stars. Your mutual friends are there with you, or at least the ones who matter. Daphne is leaning against Blaise who is endlessly amused with Theodore’s animated re-telling of the time he tried to get you to go scuba diving in Maui. You pull off indignant at all of the right moments during the story but in all honesty you are elated and you know that this is the happiest you have ever been. You wonder if it can always be like this but a small part of you knows that it cannot. Life is not made up of carefree, easy moments such as these; no matter how far across the world you try and outrun it.

 

Astoria has graciously kept herself scarce during your stay and while you appreciate the effort, you know that you are going to have to deal with her eventually. Your mother has already asked if you would consider returning to London for good, now that your father is gone. It is funny how just a handful of days can so easily wipe away the years of happiness you have collected for yourself and leave you feeling so utterly oppressed. It’s easy to allow yourself to be suffocated by the weight of life in a place like this. You want to erase the pain that your ancestral home represents to you and you hope that your presence here and now, with Theodore, can infuse some light to mute out all of the shadows. When it’s just the two of you, you pull him close and kiss him beneath the night sky and you know that it will never erase the past, but you aren’t trying to erase the past; only build upon the future.

 

Two weeks later you and Theodore walk back out of the gates of Malfoy manor.

 

You are heading back to New York because there is still so much of that city that you need to absorb, and so many places that you have yet to desecrate with the man beside you.  Your mother makes you both promise to visit and although she is smiling and appears happy for you, you cannot dismiss the hint of sadness in her expression. You know that you will have to return here one day soon, you can feel it; the draw, pulling you back no matter how many worlds stand between you.  You aren’t sure when you accepted that fate, but you have and you will.

 

On your terms.

 

For now you are content to live in the moment with Theodore because you still have so much living to make up for. When you do finally return home, Theodore will stay behind in New York because he is not quite ready to face the future that you cannot escape and it kills you to walk away from him. 

 

“ _Do you trust me?”_

_“With my life.”_

You cannot fathom living without him, even for a little while and it kills you each and every day that you are apart. You make quick work of sorting out your affairs back in London. Your family requires an heir and you and your wife have to provide one, but your time away with Theodore has changed you and as such, you have a few stipulations.

 

_“Everything’s going to be alright.”_

_“Now that you’re here.”_

You will always find each other.

 


End file.
